


in the closet

by retrogaymer



Series: kissing your best friend of 12 years, and other reckless, chaotic, stupid, sweet fun [3]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Autistic Jeremy Heere, Color Theory Fluff Fodder: ORIGIN STORIES, Fluff, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Subtle Pining, These Dumbasses Are Bad At Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrogaymer/pseuds/retrogaymer
Summary: Michael gives Jeremy a thoughtful gift, full of love and care. Jeremy wants to repay him - and does. That's that, for a few years.Only those few years and a chat with one of Michael's moms later does Jeremy realize how full of love that initial gift ACTUALLY was.





	1. Chapter 1

When Jeremy was 14, he broke his arm during the tree incident.

(The tree incident involved Michael climbing a tree, not being able to get down from said tree, falling onto Jeremy from the tree, promising to never climb a tree again, ever, and two months later getting stuck in another tree).

It honestly wasn't all bad - he got out of homework, because he couldn't write for shit with his right hand, and he was excused from P.E. for a while as well. None of his cardigans could fit over the cast, though, which was detrimental to Jeremy's goal of never drawing any attention to himself, ever. That also meant he couldn't let Michael draw or write on the cast, because that would just make it even more noticable. Also: it was late September. Walking around in t-shirts was cold as shit, but a jacket that fit his arm was still too hot.

He'd have to deal with this for around 10 weeks, as he'd landed on an extremely unfortunate angle. Come week 6, as he and Michael had just locked themselves in Jeremy's room, Michael turned to him excitedly.

“I have something for you.”

Jeremy blinked, and laughed a little, nervously. “Oh god?”

“It's good, I promise!” Michael reassured him, motioned eagerly for Jeremy to sit down on his bed as he swung his backpack off of his shoulders. Jeremy complied, watched Michael as he moved to stand in front of him.

Tried not to get flustered, 'cause the position they were in reminded him of some dumb romcom.

(He was unsuccessful).

“Now, close your eyes,” Michael grinned, and laughed at Jeremy's apprehensive look. “Pleaaase!”

Jeremy huffed and did as asked, tensed up as he heard Michael ruffle around in his backpack for something, then the sound of the bag getting dropped to the floor.

“Mkay - hold out your arms.”

Jeremy grew more nervous, made a displeased noise - “Michael, if this is some scheme to draw on my cast…”

“It's not! I promise, just - trust me.”

Jeremy squirmed a little on the bed, but raised his arms out in front of himself, preparing. He didn't know what he'd expected to feel, but, a soft sleeve suddenly slipping over his cast, a sudden warmth getting draped around his back? That was not it.

His confusion and surprise must've been showing on his face, because Michael giggled.

“Alright, you can open 'em.”

Jeremy did, and first of all noticed that Michael was standing closer than before, a little hunched over, looking expectantly at Jeremy with a smile. Then, Jeremy looked down, and realized what Michael had put on him was a blue cardigan - sleeves big enough to fit over his cast, but still close snugly around his wrists. He wasn't completely drowning in the actual shirt part, either - it was oversized, but not to the point of making him look ridiculous.

“Do you like it?”

It was Michael's turn to sound nervous, now, and Jeremy looked up to find him eyeing his expression nervously. Jeremy broke into a grin, nodded.

“I love it! Where'd you find one with sleeves like this? I've been looking, like, _everywhere._ ”

Michael lit up like a menorah, and moved to sit down next to Jeremy instead. “Actually, I, uh…” He paused. Bit at his lip. “I um! I got my mom, to knit it for you.”

Jeremy's eyes widened, the comfortable sweater suddenly warming him up in a whole other way. “Really?”

Michael smiled, nodded.

Jeremy couldn't stop himself, lunging forwards to pull Michael into a hug. Michael gave a surprised yell, but eventually hugged Jeremy back, laughing as he did.

“Thank you,” Jeremy mumbled against his ear.

“You're welcome,” Michael replied, giving Jeremy's waist a squeeze.

Jeremy desperately wanted to repay Michael for that somehow since that day, but - he just didn't know how. He wasn't very skilled at anything, creation wise, but he didn't just want to buy something. He wanted it to be just as sentimental as the cardigan that still carried the familiar, comforting smell of Michael's home.

It was late one saturday night, crawling through pinterest boards and clothing websites and blogs of moms with an ungodly interest in DIY, that inspiration struck him. It was only after impulsively ordering three different articles of clothing that it struck him, hey, he had no idea how he was going to execute this, as he was ransacking through Joann's Crafts website for a shopping list. He went into a panic over whether or not he should cancel all orders immediately, delved into a sea of unnecessary overthinking - until his eyes landed on his digital alarm clock, and his mouth instinctively whispered _'nice’_ when he realized it was 4:20 AM, and he also realized that Michael probably wouldn't give a shit if he executed this poorly. Michael, the wonderful idiot, who had conditioned Jeremy into saying a dumb word when he saw the weed number.

God, he loved that idiot.

Loved him enough to not give up, even as he had to learn how to hand sew with the added challenge of a cast on his dominant arm, and loved him enough to stay up late every day for a week cutting up and sewing shirts together, and blowing basically all of his allowance on patches, and stealthily ironing them onto the red fabric in the middle of the night because he'd be damned if he'd let his dad question him about this.

Loved him enough to be downright quaking with nervousness when the damn thing was finally ready, and he was in Michael's basement after school, and felt as if he had a bomb in his backpack.

“Hey, Michael?”

Michael turned around from where he was opening the window over his desk, eyebrows raised.

“I, uh…” God, how had Michael managed to be so confident when giving Jeremy the cardigan? “I have something for you.”

“Oh, for real?” Michael grinned, crossing the room to get to the couch. Jeremy nodded, scratched at his neck.

“Yeah, uh… Close your eyes and raise your arms in the air.”

Michael quirked a brow at that request, snorted as he fulfilled it. “If you tickle me I will kill you.”

Jeremy barked out a laugh. He _wished_ he was just pranking him, as he unzipped the bag and retrieved the hoodie.

He stood up, stepped closer to Michael.

Getting him in it was a little tougher than getting Jeremy in the cardigan had been, but, they managed, and Jeremy nervously stepped back again. Was about to let Michael open his eyes, when he paused - he couldn't even see the god damn part with all the effort in it, like this. In a moment of frustrated confidence, he grabbed Michael by the hand, and only started getting sweaty palms halfway to Michael's floor mirror by his dresser. He turned him around so he was standing sideways to it, then stepped back.

“Okay, sorry that took fucking forever. You can, um - you can look now.”

Michael opened his eyes, then peered downwards. He gasped, face lighting up. That was a good sign. Jeremy could tell he was about to say something, but, stopped him - pointed to the mirror. Michael's head turned to follow the gesture, and he actually went slack-jawed.

“Holy _shit_ Jeremy,” he gaped, flipping up the hood and turning a little more to check out the design on the back. “Where'd you _get this?_ It's dope as hell.”

“The hoodie itself is from… Somewhere,” Jeremy wheezed, then went to gesture to the graphic on the back, “but - for this I defiled an Urban Outfitters and a Joy Division shirt and merged them together and then - yeah.”

“Duuude!” Michael exclaimed, getting giddier by the second. He peeked at the sleeves, seemed to suddenly notice the patches - “DUDE! Where did this even COME FROM!”

Jeremy laughed, sheepish. “Well, I, um… I wanted to pay you back, for this,” he pointed to the cardigan, “but I'm not very creative, so, I had to improvise.”

“My _ass_ you're not creative,” Michael snorted, pulling Jeremy into a hug. “Like this isn't fuckin’ art, dude. _Thank you_.”

Jeremy laughed, a warmth spreading in his chest as he hugged Michael back, holding him tight.

“No problem.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Jeremy got the SQUIP, he stopped wearing the blue cardigan.

It actually wanted him to throw it out altogether - it was an 'emotional bond’ to Jeremy 1.0, and to Michael, but Jeremy couldn't. Instead, he stuffed it to the back of his closet, with a promise that he'd be ready to chuck it eventually. Before he had the chance, Michael saved his life, and probably the rest of the world, too - but Jeremy still hadn't worn the cardigan since. Then he and Michael started dating, after years of build-up and dancing around their feelings like dumbasses, and Jeremy still hadn't started wearing it again.

He didn't really have a solid explanation as to  _ why _ ; whenever he dug it out of his closet, held the weight of it in his hands and stared down at it, it just felt wrong. Invoked a sense of panic and dread, deep in his chest. Guilt so strong it made him want to hurl. He felt as if he didn't deserve it, and always ended up putting it back from where he scavenged it.

If Michael noticed, he hadn't said anything about it, not even as Jeremy started reintroducing his other cardigans back into his wardrobe. Jackets were fine, and hoodies we're comfortable enough (especially if they were stolen from Michael and smelled like him), but he really preferred the snug fits and deep pockets of the sweater wraps. But, this created sort of a paradox of anxiety - Jeremy felt guilty about the idea of wearing the home knitted one, and he also felt guilty about  _ not  _ wearing it. Maybe Michael noticed but didn't say anything because he thought Jeremy still thought it was lame. Maybe he truly just didn't care. Maybe - maybe he shared Jeremy's opinion on it, and didn't think Jeremy had any business wearing it anymore, after all he'd done.

That was a lot of nauseating maybes over a piece of clothing.

But - it really wasn't just a piece of clothing. It was a piece of Michael, as weird as that sounded. The SQUIP  _ had  _ been right, there; it was an emotional bond to Michael, and probably the strongest one Jeremy owned.

For once, Jeremy missed the heat of the summer, even with the embarrassing sweat stains and unruly hair it brought about. If it was hot, he could get away with not wearing it, and not  _ thinking _ about not wearing it, because it would be too hot to wear anything anyways. As it was, however, they were mid-January. A far cry from summer. 

And to make matters more pressing, Jeremy realized the blue cardigan was probably the warmest article of clothing he  _ owned. _ He dealt with this for a while, just stocked up on sweaters and layers, but one fateful morning when he literally woke up shivering from the cold in his FULLY RADIATED ROOM, he caved. If anything, whatever reaction Michael gave to seeing him wearing it again could help Jeremy parse his opinion on the matter.

Though - even with all the emotional turmoil of wearing the sweater again, climbing into Michael's PT Cruiser with heated seats was a relief. It also helped that seeing Michael smile at him first thing in the morning and kiss him as a hello always warmed up Jeremy's body.

“New Jersey has no business being this cold,” Michael commented, as Jeremy was buckling his seatbelt. Jeremy laughed, and looked out at the snowy streets.

“Agreed. I woke up because of hoe freezing cold I was.”

At that tidbit, Michael gave him a concerned look - “shit, dude, are you sure you should be going to school? That doesn't sound good.”

Jeremy smiled, shook his head. “I'll be fine! Layered the hell out of myself, so, I should be good.”

Michael clicked his tongue in discontent. “...Alright, but if you turn completely translucent I'm slam dunking you in the ER.”

Jeremy snorted, broke into laughter, some of his worries about the significance of the cardigans absence washing away. “It's _ winter,  _ gimme a break, I'm allowed to be pale.”

“You're  _ always  _ allowed to be pale, I'm just sayin’,” Michael chuckled, starting the car. “The only difference between your complexion and a piece of paper is that you're cuter.”

Jeremy felt his stomach do a flip, bumped Michael's shoulder with his fist as he watched the houses go by, unable to look at Michael's face. “I feel like that comparison doesn't make sense.”

“ _ I _ don't make sense, so. Incomprehensible is my brand.”

“I thought ‘dork’ was your brand?”

“Nice comeback, loser.”

“Lameass.”

“Dipshit.”

“Love of-”

“- my life!” Michael broke Jeremy off, raising a finger to shush him, “jinx you owe me a kiss on the lips.”

Jeremy had briefly looked back at Michael in pleasant surprise at the completion of his catchphrase, but then immediately had to hide his face in his knees and scream into them, face heating up.

“You're the  _ worst  _ \- don't ASK for them, just do it!”

Michael chuckled, and Jeremy felt his hand reach over and rub his neck. “But you're so adorable when you're flustered!”

“You're the worst,” Jeremy repeated, voice muffled against his jeans.

“You love me,” Michael laughed, tugged gently at the back of Jeremy's hair. “We've arrived at the hellhole.”

Jeremy leaned back up, sighing. “Ugh. Let's go.”

As he went to unbuckle his seatbelt, though, Michael grabbed his wrist, making Jeremy look up at him questioningly.

“I believe you owe me something, first,” Michael said, with an unbearably smug look on his face. Jeremy groaned.

“Stop making it so weird,” he mumbled, but leaned in to give Michael a quick peck on the lips anyways.

“Making it weird is our company slogan,” Michael grinned, kissed Jeremy's cheek before unbuckling his own seatbelt. Jeremy followed, and they walked hand in hand into the teenage battlezone of high school.

And for an average day of high school, it went pretty well! Jeremy had almost forgotten about the fact that he was wearing the blue cardigan again by the time he was back in Michael's car, on the way to his house. As they were taking off their snow-covered boots in the hall, the first door on the right opened, and someone poked out -

“Hey boys!” Felisa, Michael's mom, smiled at them warmly. “You're just in time, I'm about to make tea. Do either of you want a cup?”

“I could go for one,” Michael grinned, looked to Jeremy, who nodded.

“Sure!”

“Great - come wait in the kitchen, I'm not bringing it downstairs.”

“I don't know which one of us to call lazy,” Michael snorted, turned to Jeremy, “I'm gonna head to the bathroom first, that okay?”

“Sure thing,” Jeremy nodded, and moments later found himself in the kitchen with Felisa, leaning against a counter as they waited for the kettle to boil. At home, Jeremy had an electric kettle, but the Mells used one of those traditional ones that hissed when the water was ready. Michael always complained about that - he thought it took too long, and the noise was annoying. 

Jeremy loved it, though.

It reminded him of when they were kids. Sitting on the bench behind the kitchen table in the evening, sleepily leaning on each other and yawning every five seconds as they waited on their goodnight tea, bunched up in a shared duvet. They always held hands, under the covers.

Goodnight tea was phased out when they were around 12, however, in favor of staying up late and playing video games. They had no time to waste on  _ tea _ when they had  _ zombies _ to kill. Truth be told, Jeremy missed the ritual.

He didn't have time to dwell on that, though, when Felisa seemed to suddenly notice something, perking up with a smile - “oh, the cardigans back! You haven't worn it for so long, I was worried it tore or something.”

Jeremy blinked, and looked down at the blue sleeves fitting around his wrists snugly. “Oh, uh - yeah, I just… I don't know,” his reasons were already complicated enough to himself, nevermind _Michael's_ _mom._ He settled for a shrug. “I just kinda forgot about it for a while after the summer, I guess.”

“Mmh,” she nodded, “makes sense. If it did somehow break, I'm sure Michael would have it patched up as soon as possible.”

Jeremy laughed in agreement, thinking back to the times the sweater had been torn before. He paused, and looked up at her. “Uh - thank you, for that, by the way.”

She blinked. Gave him a baffled, questioning look. “Sorry, for what?”

“I mean,” Jeremy shifted a little, the awkward turn this conversation could take hanging over his head  _ heavily _ . Was it Miya that had knitted it and fixed it? No, Michael very clearly said  _ mom  _ when talking about it _ , _ and Felisa was mom. Miya was mama. Yes, that had to be right. “For, uh, fixing it, whenever it broke. And for, y'know, making it in the first place,” he wheezed out sheepishly.

Felisa didn't look any less baffled. She gave a confused laugh, eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in a little. “Sorry, I… Where'd you get the idea I made that?”

Now Jeremy was getting just as bewildered. “Michael? Told me?”

“That’s -  _ oooh _ ,” her confusion turned into a coy smile, reminiscent of the one Michael had given him that morning, when cashing in the jinxed kiss. God damn family resemblance. “I think I understand. He was probably too shy to tell you - oh, that's  _ so _ cute.”

“I  _ don't _ understand,” Jeremy blurted out. “What do you mean?”

Felisa's eyes gleamed with warmth and mischief as she leaned in a little, reached across the counter to squeeze Jeremy's wrist. “Michael knit that cardigan for you, Jeremy. He's also the one that fixed it, every time it broke.”

Jeremy simultaneously felt burning hot and ice cold, and wasn't sure which part was showing on his face. A million reactions swirled around in his head, and he settled on the safest - “I… I didn't know he could knit.”

“He couldn't, before making that!” She grinned. “He learned all by himself and  _ remarkably  _ fast, too. The way he picks up new skills is a little uncanny sometimes. But, he was completely set on finding a pattern and learning how to follow it after you complained about none of your other sweaters fitting. He bought the yarn and the knitting needles himself, too, because he wanted it to be entirely from him. And then he never even told you!” She chuckled, shaking her head a little as she withdrew her hand again. “I suppose he got embarrassed and chickened out. Teen boys - you guys are so strange about affection.”

Jeremy didn't even know what to say. He was speechless, just felt the fire in him taking over and warming up his cheeks in a way that had to be noticable. And he assumed so because Felisa laughed even harder after a few moments.

“Strange and adorable,” she snorted. “Also, I wouldn't normally have told you all that but, now that you're dating and everything - I figured it was okay.”

Jeremy didn't have time to scramble for a response, because the sound of the bathroom door getting unlocked and the creaking of the floorboards put his focus back on Michael, as he returned to the kitchen.

...He'd been in the bathroom for an awfully long time, Jeremy noted, as he watched Michael stroll up to his side and smile at his mom.

His eyes looked red and slightly puffy.

Oh god.

“Jer -  _ geez _ he looks spooked, what'd you tell him mom!” Michael laughed a little, snapping Jeremy's attention span back out of the anxiety hole.

“Nothing special,” Felisa smiled - winked at Jeremy. Jeremy gave off a nervous chuckle, because he didn't know what else to do.

Michael eyed her suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. 

Before he could say anything, though, the kettle built up a hissing noise, and Felisa hurried to take it off the stove, filling three mugs with the boiling hot water. They thanked her as they left the room again and descended the stairs to Michael's room - placed the cups on Michael's desk to wait for the tea to cool down a little, a lesson they'd learned the hard way during their aforementioned goodnight tea ritual.

Jeremy felt as if his head was bursting at the seams with rushing thoughts, but couldn't grab onto any one of them as he moved to sit on Michael's couch, leaning back and staring forwards. He diverted his eyes to the man of the hour, checking his phone briefly while he was setting it to charge.

Jeremy's mouth moved before he even realized he wanted to say something.

“Michael?”

“Mhm?”

“Why didn't you tell me you knit this cardigan?”

Michael's hands slipped around his phone, nearly dropping it. After a narrow save he put it down hastily, turned to stare at Jeremy, eyes wide. “How did you-  _ oh,” _ a moment of realization had him cringing. “My mom told you.”

Jeremy shifted, anxiously. Nodded, then - “so, why? I know it might've seemed embarrassing at first, but, why not later? Like… Like when we started dating, or something?”

Jeremy realized the answer to his own question the moment he'd said it. And good thing, too, because Michael sure looked like he wasn't planning to tell him willingly, staring down at the floor.

“...You noticed. Didn't you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Michael muttered, sounding choked up.

“Michael,” Jeremy said, pained, as he stood up. “It's… Whatever you think it meant, I…” Jeremy didn't know how to finish that sentence, or how to make this any better. Michael had taken to rubbing the fabric around his elbows, a nervous habit of his.

“I mean, can you blame me?” He barked out a laugh, now looking to the side, rather than the floor. “SQUIP comes around and has to make you cool, drops the cardigan. All good. SQUIP is deactivated - you don't wear it for a month. Still good. You don't wear it for two months. Still good. You don't wear it  _ once _ until  _ today - _ What am I  _ supposed _ to make of this, Jeremy?”

Jeremy made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat, stepped closer to Michael again. Michael didn't veer back, but he didn't look at Jeremy either.

“I promise, it's not - it's not what you think it is. I didn't think…” Jeremy took in a deep breath, let it out in a sigh as he looked down at the sweater, bunching up the bottom of the cardigan in his hands, squishing the fabric. “I didn't think I deserved to wear it for a while, because of how, personal and meaningful it was. A little bit of, uh, how I felt about you actually,” Jeremy barked out an involuntary laugh, “I didn't deserve you.  _ Don't _ deserve you. And then - and then, after some time, I didn't know if you noticed or not, and I didn't know if you were glad or upset or didn't care that I wasn't wearing it and I-”

Jeremy was broken off by the sudden feeling of Michael, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. Jeremy was confused, but immediately hugged him back, holding him as close as possibly in his arms.

“We really - really need to learn how to fucking communicate,” Michael's voice quivered in his ear, and Jeremy burst out laughing, hiding his face in Michael's shoulder.

“You're right, like you always are.”

“But I wasn't right, this time,” Michael muttered. Moved his hand to cup Jeremy's cheeks, and lifted his head again, to press their foreheads together gently. “God this is - I keep getting this, nagging feeling that you were happier and better off without me, and you're only with me out of  _ pity  _ and I just - I can't stand it and I want to get rid of it but I don't know how.”

Jeremy kept one hand wrapped around Michael's waist, but lifted the other, to caress his cheek. “I think this is the first step,” Jeremy said, felt his breath bounce back from where it brushed against Michael's lips. “Thank you, for telling me. So I can tell your anxiety piss demons to fuck off because it's _ not _ true.”

Michael snorted, broke into a shaky laugh. “H-Hey, hey now - maybe I wanna keep the piss demons around for-”

“I love you so much, more than my chest can handle and much more han I could ever explain, but you test me _ every day, _ ” Jeremy wheezed, and Michael laughed harder. He buried his face in the crook of Jeremy's neck, half laughed and half sobbed into it, while Jeremy rubbed his back comfortingly.

“We suck at relationships,” Michael mumbled, after what felt like forever of just standing there, hugging.

“At least we suck at them together. Like Apocalypse Of The Damned.”

Michael snorted, hugged Jeremy tighter.

“I hope I never suck with anyone but you.”

“...Well, hey now-”

“That one was  _ unintentional, _ ” Michael yelled, sent Jeremy laughing.

Once they'd both calmed down, Jeremy leaned back a little - took Michael's face in his hands, and looked into his beautiful brown eyes, determinedly. “I love you, and we can do this.”

Michael gazed back, eyes soft from crying but mirroring the same fighting spirit as he placed his hands over Jeremy's. “I love you too, and we sure as fuck can. Two-player game stylez.”

Jeremy chuckled, leaned in to kiss him. “Two-player game stylez,” he whispered against his lips.


End file.
